


Forgotten Traits

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Gen, Minor Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23147245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Pharma had forgotten why he made a deal with Tarn.
Relationships: Pharma/Tarn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Forgotten Traits

**Author's Note:**

> [First posted to Tumblr on November 20, 2013 as “Drabble #95 - Tarn/Pharma.” Crossposted to Archive of Our Own on March 14, 2020. Only the work itself has been posted.]
> 
> Written as a Request.

Pharma had gotten far too comfortable around Tarn.

It was the only way he could justify the nausea turning his tanks, and the spike of fear that sent shudders through every inch of his plating. His fingers clenched around his medical kit handle, trembling. The screeching and scraping of metal echoed in his audio inputs.

Pharma had forgotten.

He’d forgotten what drove his deal with Tarn to start. Pharma knew, deep down what it was that Tarn was known for. But, he only ever saw the aftermath–body parts and stains. Pharma saw those things in his med bay daily. They were nothing. And of course there was his personal connection to muffle the horrors down. He saw Tarn. Polite, demanding and lecherous–yet cultured–Tarn. Pharma had almost had, dare he say it, pleasant conversation during their visits.

He had forgotten that there were those who’d sooner take their own lives than meet this monster face to face.

“Doctor, you’re early,” Tarn said, pleasantly, as if Pharma were arriving to share a drink. He nodded in greeting, ignoring the squirming mass near his feet. “I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.”

“A staff meeting with my superiors was rescheduled for during our normal appointment,” Pharma said, optics locked on the lump of energon and twisted pulsing metal. “I’m required to be there.”

Tarn chuckled, and shook his head. He rubbed the side of his chin, and hummed. “I keep forgetting you’re not the highest ranking officer from time to time. Fear not, we’ll be done shortly, if you don’t mind waiting a moment?”

Pharma steadied his grip on his case and faked a look of disinterest, betrayed by the optics still fascinated by Tarn’s work. “As long as it’s only a moment. I don’t have all day.”

“Naturally,” Tarn said, as Tesarus and Helex chuckled behind him. They glanced at Pharma from the corner of their visors and optics. Laughing at him. Tarn overpowered them with a rumbling and playful, “Wouldn’t want to ruin your busy schedule.”

A muffled screech drew Tarn’s attention back to the matter at hand, and away from the doctor standing awkwardly in the main hall’s doorway.

Vos cradled the squirming mech’s head in his lap, hands locked around either side and holding it still. Vos’ signature face was drilled deep into the suffering mech’s face plate, and whatever remained of his energon dripped down the sides, following the dried stains. One arm was a twisted wreck of metal, barely identifiable, and the other clawed at the ground, bending fingers back.

Tesarus played with a leg, still attached by stringy and stretched wire, bits of broken conduit crumbling around it. The limb would twitch every so often, and he’d chuckle in response like a sparkling with a toy. The paint on the metal was bubbled, as if it had been heated to boiling. Drips of smelter dotted Helex’s front. The other two appeared to be merely spectators for the moment. Kaon’s coils sparked, but he remained standing faithfully by Tarn’s side like a little dog.

“Do control yourself, doctor,” Tarn said. He shook a finger at Pharma. “I can see your frame shaking from instinct, but it wouldn’t do for you to fix the traitor up, now would it? It’d defeat the purpose of his lesson.”

“I-I wouldn’t dream of it,” Pharma said, ignoring the tremor in his voice. He set his case on the ground as casually as possible with his fuel tanks pumping and his spark racing. Pharma added, “Why would I bother for a Decepticon?”

“Of course,” Tarn said, a hint of mockery in his voice. “How could I forget?”

“Perhaps your mask is on too tight,” Pharma offered, crossing his arms and squeezing.

The mech on the ground continued to thrash in Vos’ overly affectionate embrace. His medical training instincts aside, not even Pharma could have saved this despicable wretch, Autobot or no, by this point. He could see the cracked spark casing through a tear in the chest-plate. The seeping energy would be gone soon enough. A few minutes at the most.

“You seem tense, doctor,” Tarn said, slipping his hand onto Pharma’s shoulder. The jet flinched under the touch, head darting to the side. He moved quietly for a tank. “Is something the matter?”

“Of course not,” Pharma said. He refused to be comforted by this monster. Pharma ignored the heavy weight of his hand. “I knew I’d be inconveniencing you, but I still hadn’t expected to be kept waiting by…work.”

“It’s true, we don’t often bring it home with us,” Tarn said, rubbing his fingers along Pharma’s plating. “But this particular offender left us with no choice.”

“I’m not,” Pharma said, interrupting, “All that interested in the details, if you don’t mind.”

“I didn’t take you for squeamish, doctor,” Tarn said, whispering in Pharma’s helm. His grip tightened, and he pulled Pharma back against him. “You did know what I do, didn’t you?”

“Knowing and seeing are two very different things,” Pharma said, quiet and more to himself than Tarn. He had said the same long ago, the first time he’d seen a set of optics flicker out on his table.

“So they are,” Tarn said. He pressed his thumb into the back of Pharma’s neck. “Perhaps you’d rather wait in the back?”

“There’s no point,” Pharma said. “He’s already dead.”

“Oh?” Tarn looked across the room to Vos and their victim. The gunformer shook the still mech, to no avail. He cursed as Tesarus tossed the leg he held to the ground. Tarn exhaled air heavily through his vents, and Pharma could hear his latest broken t-cog strain and screech. “So he is.”

“You cracked the spark casing,” Pharma said methodically, rubbing the side of his face. Vos stood and dropped the dead mech to the ground with a thick splash. “Nothing survives that for long.”

“Shame,” Tarn said. He drew his thumb down into the joint of Pharma’s plating. His voice resonated with something deep down, the tone even though irritated. “I had been hoping to snuff out his spark personally. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure.”

Pharma shivered.

“Shall we?” Tarn asked, tugging Pharma toward the hallway door. “I believe you have an appointment to make.”

“Yes,” Pharma said, reaching for his case. “I do.”

His steps faltered for the first time in ages as he traveled down the hallway with the beast at his back. He couldn’t forget again.

Never again.


End file.
